The Smegging Challenge
by kattykitty
Summary: When Rimmer and Lister have finally had enough of each other, Lister suggests what will come to be known as The Smegging Challenge: each must spend a week being the ideal crewmate... in each other's eyes, of course! With Rimmer battling his own issues and Lister being completely oblivious to everything, how could it possibly end well? RATED T FOR FUTURE CHAPTERS!


_Why he'd let it go this far, he'd never know. All the logic pointed towards the surety of another option, a way out of this that didn't mean driving himself completely insane – but was it even possible for a Hologram to go insane? It certainly felt as if he were, the cogs in his brilliant mind seeming to grind and falter at every turn despite maintaining his usual breezy, cool exterior; nobody would ever know, he decided, because nobody would ever notice that anything had changed. If he was being truly honest with himself, nobody would be looking hard enough. No one, not even the dedicated Kryten, would see what was going on. Not Holly, not the Cat. Not Lister. Definitely not Lister, if only because there was no other choice than to keep it that way._

_Arnold Rimmer stared up at the bunk above him, the glow of the dim lights around him making the shadow of his new hard-light Hologram body seem suddenly more solid than he was – and there was an irony to that. After all this time, regaining touch – the most underrated sense you had, unappreciated until you no longer had it – had simply made him feel even less of a reality. He reached out as if to prove a point, lightly brushing his fingertips along the hard material above him and waiting for that fierce spark of joy that had erupted within him since Legion had gifted him the ability to feel once more… and, nothing. Literally. He felt it, sure, felt the coolness of it, felt its sturdy nature and its immovability beneath the pressure of his hand but the emotions within him remained unstirred, uninspired. It was worse, even, than when his hand would have simply passed through it before, because at least he could feel something – a gentle fizzing sensation, a strange buzzing that wasn't quite Touch but had sometimes been enough to remind him that he still existed._

_So, maybe the novelty had worn off. Maybe it was a simple as that. As he continued to awkwardly caress the bed above him he considered the possibility that it may have been better if he had never been given the opportunity to experience these literal physical feelings again, if only so that he was focused on the wishing and wanting rather than the disappointment and confusion._

_He sighed, placing his arm gently back by his side and closing his eyes. He pondered on filling his diary with his thoughts, pouring his ridiculous feelings out onto the pages until he could write no more, but Lister was just too good at finding it, no matter where he hid it! How he could manage to hide the goit's cigarettes and keep them out from under Lister's nose yet was completely unable to keep his own possessions hidden from him was beyond him; a small voice offered that perhaps he wanted Lister to discover how he was currently feeling, that the man could offer him some answers or even a miniscule helping of comfort… but that was impossible. As good-natured as Dave Lister was, he was not particularly sensitive to Arnold's emotions. Understandable, really, considering how little Rimmer offered him in this department._

_Opening his eyes once more, Arnold hoisted himself carefully up and out of the bunk, swinging his legs over the side and pushing his body upright - clearly he was beyond sleep now. He brushed his hands down the bright white cloth of his pyjamas, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles; a habit. He always liked to look sprightly and smart, no matter what he was wearing, something that Lister seemed to find impossible to understand (the smelly gimboid); perhaps it was his upbringing that had made it so important to look orderly, the strict regime of his father against his desperation to be considered an equal to his older brothers but, whatever it was, it still remained important to him as much as it ever had – even if he was just a Hologram._

_Taking a step forward, he found himself pausing, ears highly aware of the sound of Lister's deep sleep; ever so slowly he turned his upper body towards the top bunk, his eyes staying focused on the floor until the very last second at which point he allowed himself a glance at the curry-flavoured technician. Lister was clearly submerged in unconsciousness, light snores snuffling their way from out of his throat and offering Rimmer a strange sense of warm familiarity – not that he really cared for him, not really, not in a substantial way… more in a, 'you're the only thing left' sort of way. In a, 'without you, I wouldn't even be here' way._

_As much as he hated to admit it, without Lister he would cease to have any use to anyone. He was, after all, here to keep the vindaloo-lover sane._

_Of course, no one considered Rimmer's sanity._

_They all thought he was deluded from the start._

__** X  
**

A mangled piece of silver cardboard floated down from the air above him, settling in his lap and partially blocking the duller-than-dull (even for him) book he had been attempting to read for the past half an hour; for a moment Rimmer felt grateful at the distraction, though in his typical fashion this was soon replaced by self-righteous annoyance – couldn't he have a moment's peace in this damned place?

The cigarette-scented shadow that had accompanied the silver cardboard loomed over him. "Well?"

Rimmer glanced down at the piece of cardboard, identifying it as one of Lister's empty cigarette packets. He held his silence for a moment, relishing in the waves of frustration that radiated from the man standing beside him as he deliberately kept him waiting.

"_Well?"_

He sighed, closing his book with a flourish. "Well _what?_"

A finger appeared in his range of vision, violently pointing towards the piece of rubbish that had been so carelessly flung into his possession. "What d'ya have to say for yerself?"

He looked down once more at the destroyed packet, derision and exasperation filling him as easily as a good scotch on a Friday eve. "I don't know, Lister – stop throwing the remnants of your disgusting habit at me when I'm trying to have some time to myself? Better yet, stop seeking me out full-stop?" His dark eyes flickered to meet Lister's accusatory gaze for a moment, pointedly placing his book down on the chair next to him and folding his arms. "I am many great things, it's true – solicitous, generous, charming, absolutely 100% right about every question ever asked BUT the one thing that I am _not -_" he jerked his head to the side slightly to accentuate his point, " – is a mind-reader, so unless you're planning on ending my misery by telling me what the smeg it is you're on about and leaving me to read in peace I'd very much like you to bog off."

Swiping the cigarette packet from out of his lap (a little too close to his nether-regions for comfort), Lister waved it in front of his face.

"Are you telling me that you had nothing to do with this?"

"With _what? _Forgive me, but I fail to see what's wrong with this picture. Let's see, let's see… you're standing in front of me clutching at a torn cigarette packet whilst casually displaying your usual lack of manners and decorum. Other than the fact that your face isn't buried in a porn magazine and you're not shovelling food in your mouth, I'd say this is parry to the norm!"

"Yeah yeah, we all know how much you love the sound of your own voice, but can you just give me a proper answer?" He waved the cigarette packet again, the silvery, stinky material getting closer and closer to Rimmer's face until he could stand it no more. He whacked it away, standing up and glaring down at the lower-ranking man with his usual sneer, lording over his height advantage the way a hunter lords over his first kill.

"You really have no sense of common courtesy, do you? Kindly refrain from shaking that thing in my face from now on, especially when you happen to be infringing on the only time I get to spend alone."

"You're _always_ alone, Rimmer," Lister replied, his face crumpling in bewilderment. "The only time you're not alone is when you're nagging us about this and that!"

Rimmer frowned. "Shut up. I'll have you know I have a roaring social life."

"Oh yeah? You and Inflatable Ingrid like to go out on the town?"

"Shut up," he repeated snarkily. "And for your information I genuinely have no clue what you're moaning about. If it's more cigarettes you're after, you have a lot of work to do before you _earn_ them -"

"What I'm _moaning_ about, oh high-and-mighty smeghead, is the fact that I found an entire packet of fags – that's _twenty_ cigarettes – ripped up and thrown around our room with the box pretty much buggered."

Rimmer's lips set into a smug smile. "And why on earth would I waste my time pulling adolescent pranks on you when I have far more important things to do?"

The damned cigarette packet was shoved in his face again, Lister's eyes lighting up as if he had been waiting for this very question. "I found THIS in YOUR bed."

Confusion wrinkled Rimmer's brow. "My bed?"

"That's what I'm saying, yeah. _Your_ bed."

"Huh." Rimmer refrained from shrugging – a habit he was dangerously close to picking up from the laid-back ruffian opposing him – and merely removed his attention from the situation, stepping around Lister and heading towards the door. "Well, it's not my problem. I didn't do it."

Dave followed him, refusing to let it go. "Then who did? Kryten wouldn't do it, and the Cat has the attention span of… well, a cat! All he has to do is look in a mirror and we've lost him for the day!"

"Oh, bloody hell Lister, I don't know!" Whirling around, he caught the man off-guard and sent him stumbling back. "I have no interest in your little drama and I have no interest in who did it, though good on them for taking the obliteration of your dirty habit into their own hands! If you want more cigarettes, do some work for once and I might consider replenishing them – very generous considering you can't prove you didn't smoke them all…"

"I'm telling you, they were all over our room!"

"I'll have to take your word for it, won't I?"

As he left the room, a self-righteous glimmer of a smile still on his face, Rimmer felt the usual sense of victory that alighted within him upon winning an argument (one that had by no means been won), safe and secure in the rare knowledge that he was innocent of any wrongdoing. After all, when was he _ever_ wrong?

Luckily he missed the two-finger salute directed at his retreating back.

** X**

It wasn't until dinner that the two crossed paths again. Rimmer had spent the majority of his day telling the Scutters that they were useless (their own version of a two-finger salute bestowed upon him without his knowledge) whilst inwardly planning a meeting where he could offer his usual help and support to the other three crew-members in their own workloads in the form of verbal abuse and clever anecdotes. He sat writing this constructive criticism on a painstakingly mapped-out chart, feeling quite pleased with himself as per usual, absorbed enough in his work that Lister and Kryten's entrance into the room was unnoticed… until, of course, Lister's clattering around with plates and forks cut into his careful concentration. He looked up, grimacing as the seat opposite him became occupied by the slob.

He continued to glare at Lister throughout the entirety of his meal; did the man have no idea how obtrusive he was in his mere existence? Rimmer watched as food was shovelled at lightning speed into his greedy fat lips, distaste curling his tongue and making him wonder – not for the first time – why he of _all_ people had been saddled with the painstaking task of looking out for the younger techie. They had nothing in common, not one jot! The closest thing Rimmer had to comfortable companionship on this wreck of a spaceship was Kryten, and that was only because the android was so willing to answer to his every beck and call.

These thoughts continued to slide through his mind until Lister finished his last bite, belching and casting the fork down with a clash before taking a long swig of lager; the action was standard as of an evening, yet it still made Rimmer inwardly cringe in revulsion.

"You really are the basest of animals, aren't you?"

Ignoring his insult, Lister inspected his nails as he spoke in a dangerously casual tone. "Y'know, I've been thinking."

Rimmer snorted. "A likely story."

"You're a very unpleasant man, Arnold Rimmer."

"Ha! You're one to talk!"

"Seriously though," Lister said, leaning back in his chair, lighting a cigarette that looked very much glued back together, "you're the very _epitome_ of unpleasant. You moan, you mutter… you only ever smile when you're being a smug git. I have to tell you, man -" he leaned forward, pointing, " – that I'm not even sure you've ever had a day of fun in your life."

"Hmph. I've had fun, oh yes, I've had plenty of it! You're just not a part of it, Lister because I think you're a smeggy goit." Rimmer folded his arms across his chest, a smile appearing on his lips before realising that he was smiling in his smugness, exactly as Lister had surmised. He smothered the smile quickly, frowning deeply and hoping it hadn't been noted.

Dave's grin was enough to prove his efforts worthless. "Yeah, sure you have. That you and Ingrid again, Arn? Because I've got some news for you – shagging an inflatable doll doesn't count as having fun. It's pretty sad, actually."

"I'll have you know that Ingrid is far better company than you'll ever be!" Bristling, Rimmer leaned forward to deliver his next line. "Not that you'll ever find out, but I'm a cracking good sport when it comes to the social side of things!"

"Believe it when I see it, man, believe it when I see it!"

"Oh, smeg off," he grumbled, slumping back into his chair. "You just don't appreciate me as I should be appreciated. I'm like a fine wine in many aspects, Lister - only those with a refined sense of style and pleasure can properly embrace me as I am, in all my glory."

Lister's grin widened, mirth dancing in his eyes. "I'm sorry to say that I think you've corked, Rimsy."

"Oho, you think so, do you? I'll tell you what would happen if I unleashed my full sense of fun on you, Lister – do you want me to tell you?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"You'd never again be able to say you've had a 'cracking good night on the lash' or whatever it is you gimboids say – no night would ever compare to it. You'd be so stunned by the sophisticated, cultured atmosphere and so bowled over by the witty repartee that you wouldn't be able to go back to your slobby ways! You would find within me, slovenly pig that you are and handsome winner that I am, a man you could only ever aspire to be." Rimmer sat up a little straighter, his own self-importance crowding the room. "You'd never want to see your silly little drinking buddies again after a night with me, and that's a promise."

The silence that followed this was preferable to the hysterical laughter that followed shortly after; Lister literally fell on the table laughing, a snicker even falling from a surprised-looking Kryten as he pretended to fold sheets that were already folded. Rimmer looked at Lister, aghast, as tears began to cascade down his cheeks in apparent delight at the words he had just spoken. He did not understand, not one bit.

"What? _What?_ What's so funny? I was being genuine!"

"I know, mate, I know," cried Lister, grasping a hold of the edge of the table in order to stop himself from keeling over completely, "and that's what makes it comedy gold! You're priceless!"

Rimmer stood, his mouth pursing into an offended grimace. "Well, if you're just going to mock me -"

"Priceless, Rimsy, absolutely…" Wiping away the tears streaking his skin, Lister looked up at the insulted older man with a grin as wide as his face would allow. "Oh, sit down you silly arse, it was just the way you phrased it. I'm sure a night with you -"

He burst into laughter again, unable to withhold it – this time Kryten, too, gave in, holding his stomach as he leaned back and let out a guffaw.

" – a night with you would wipe all others out of my head for the rest of my life."

"Stop treating me like I'm an idiot, I know what it sounded like," Rimmer mumbled, slowly sitting himself back on his chair, unwilling to leave whilst knowing they would probably laugh even more once he had gone, "but I mean it! If I had the chance – no, I'm being serious Lister – to show you what I'm like in a setting I'm comfortable in, doing things I'm comfortable with in a social setting…" He broke off, suddenly aware that his tone had taken on an earnest edge, something that oddly embarrassed him. "I just mean that I'm really not that bad. And I only insult you and moan a lot because you're all complete and utter imbeciles, I really can't be blamed for that."

The laughter slowly died down to a quiet whimper every now and again, eventually settling to the other two kitchen-bound crewmates merely grinning every now and then as they recovered from their hysterics. Lister picked up his pint, looking over the edge of it at Rimmer as he took a large swallow, flashing him his usual cheeky-chappie grin as he put it down quietly on the table.

"Sorry, man, you just… you got to me a bit there."

"Harumph."

"I was being genuine too, though," Lister said, suddenly serious. " I think it would be good for you to break the narky habit of a lifetime, even for a month or so."

Rimmer narrowed his eyes. "I'm not sure I understand what you're saying."

"Not saying, Rimsy… _suggesting_. Gently."

"All right… could you be more specific? I know that's hard given that your brain is the size of a peanut, but…"

Lister sat forward suddenly, alarming Rimmer into sitting right back in his chair. "I'm suggesting that you take a month or so to… try a bit harder to be a nice person. Y'know, attempt to stop being a smeghead for a little while. You might find you benefit from it, yeah?"

"Yeah… no. No, I don't think that sounds like a good idea at all. What would I get out of it? What would _you_ get out of it?"

"You'd stop being a whiny bastard for one," the technician mused, leaning back again and starting to play with the end of his hair. "No nagging, no glaring, no playing nasty tricks on your bunkmates -"

"I TOLD you, I didn't do it!"

" – but more to the point, you'd probably feel a hell of a lot better yourself! Think about it, it takes less muscles to smile than it does to frown."

"I happen to appreciated the work-out my face gets on a regular basis, thank you very much." Rimmer frowned for the millionth time that meal, as if to prove it.

"I really think you should consider it though. It could be a new way of life if you liked it enough – I know we'd benefit, and I think you would too."

Pretending to consider it for a few moments, Rimmer began to shake his head slowly, sadly. "Sorry Listy, but it sounds like pure poop to me. I like the way I am. It's not like I spend every waking moment pointing out YOUR every flaw and demanding you change, is it?"

Lister raised both eyebrows. "Are you smegging serious? That's ALL you ever do, man, 24/7!"

"No I don't!"

"Yeah, you do, and it drags the atmo down BIG time. I think you should consider it, Rimmer, y'know… as a challenge."

Something about the word, the suggestion of it being something Rimmer could do and succeed at, awakened a sense of interest in him. "A challenge?"

"Yeah, yeah! Tackle it, beat it, assume the role of the almighty non-smeg Rimmer! You could totally do it, mate, I swear." Lister raised an eyebrow. "You're not scared, are you? You wouldn't want to fail, I suppose…"

"Hey now, don't be rash," Rimmer protested, putting his hands up, "I wasn't saying that! I just… I don't…"

Lister carefully moved, sliding in the chair next to Rimmer. "Cooome oooon, you want to prove me wrong, don't you? You want to prove that you're always right, surely?"

"Well, I -"

"Go on. I'll even knock down the time-span to a week, eh? A week of you not moaning or nagging or being a complete arse?"

Rimmer's gaze was cold as it rested upon Lister's. "I'll thank you not to insult me, Lister."

"Well, go on then, prove me wrong! _Prove me wrong, Rimmer!_ Tell me you can do it and just… do it! Be fun! Be happy! Be… Arnold!"

His mind swimming with the possibilities, Rimmer found he could take no more – he stood, pushing his chair back and stepping back away from the wheedling northerner. "I don't know, I can't focus right now with your ridiculous voice in my ear. If I'm going to consider this, I need to do it in peace and quiet."

Suppressing a smile, Lister nodded, leaning back in his chair and taking another appraising glance at his bunkmate over the rim of his pint glass. "Yeah, mate, take all the time you need! Go and have a nice lie down and think about what a breathtakingly admired winner you could be if you take this on."

Slowly, Rimmer began to make his exit. "Yes, yes. I'll… I'll certainly think on it."

"You do that."

** X**

"Lister. Are you asleep?"

A slight movement from above, and a groan. "I bloody am now."

Rimmer reached up towards the bed above him, pressing his fingers to it as he had the night before as he considered what he was about to say. The dark room definitely helped. "I've been thinking about what you said." His hand pushed against the immovable top bunk, craving the sense of achievement at the sense of touch as he had weeks before. "I've been thinking… that I might well try it."

He could almost hear the grin on Lister's face. "Yeah? Good on you, mate. Good on you."

"The only thing is, it's not really fair if I'm the only one suffering."

"Rimmer, the point is that you _won't_be suffering anymore. You'll be happier, we'll _all_ be happier if you're not being a smegging twat."

Sighing, his hand trailed from the bed to the wall. "All I meant is that if _I_ have to make an effort for _you,_ perhaps _you_ should make an effort for _me_."

Quiet, until –

"Go on then, I'm listening."

"If I go a week without being an apparent smeghead, I think _you_ should go a week without being a complete goit."

Lister was suddenly in front of him, upside down from his bunk. "You're not really selling it to me here, Rimsy."

Rimmer half-smiled – good practise, he supposed, for the coming week… if Lister accepted his proposal. "If I agree to do this for a week, you have to stop smoking, drinking and being a general fart-arsed slob the week after."

"You're proposing a compromise?"

"That'd be about the shape of it, yes."

Lister appeared to consider it for a moment. "For a whole week?"

Rimmer nodded, meeting Lister's hesitant stare. "Let me put it in a way you'll understand… I'm game if you're game."

Lister held his gaze. For a few moments the two men sat in silence, staring at each other as they both considered the possibilities and ramifications of this deal, a deal created in their own distaste for each other.

A smile spread across his face.

"Well then, Arnie. I do believe we have an accord."


End file.
